Building a Mystery
by Persephone-Granger
Summary: Songfic for Sarah McLachlan's Building a Mystery. Lucius is standing in front of his son's grave, thinking of the choices he's had to make and the price he's had to pay. LuciusNarcissa, LuciusPansy, DracoHermione.


A/N:  A songfic.  Lucius/Narcissa, Lucius/Pansy, Draco/Hermione.  Set to Sarah McLachlan's _Building a Mystery_, one of the most beautiful and haunting songs ever.  I thought about making it all about Draco, then switched to Lucius just for fun.

Rating: R

Building a Mystery

_You come out at night_

_that's__ when the energy comes_

_and__ the dark side's light_

_and__ the vampires roam_

Lucius Malfoy felt old.

The mourners had gone home.  His wife was inside the manor, heavily sedated.  She had been inconsolable ever since the night when Ministry officials had come knocking at their door, bearing the body of their son.

This was wrong.  It always felt wrong, to bury a child.

He thought he had been doing the right thing.  Giving Draco a chance to play spy for the Light.  He thought his father hadn't known, but Lucius knew everything.

He knew Draco was feeding bits of information to Albus Dumbledore and his band of bright-eyed Gryffindors.  That he spent time with them, and that they had become sort of friends.  That he had fallen in love with a Muggleborn witch and tried to face down a Death Eater ambush.  She had died, but not before he.  He had died thinking he had saved her.

Lucius closed his eyes.

It had been insurance.  Just in case.  Just in case the Dark Lord lost, he wanted his son to be on the winning side.  He had been so careful not to tell him anything, and this was his repayment.  This was his loss, and his alone.

_you__ strut your astor wear_

_and__ your suicide poem_

_and__ a cross from a faith_

_that__ died before Jesus came_

_you're__ building a mystery_

He heard a crunch of feet on dried leaves, but didn't turn.

"Mr. Malfoy," someone said softly.

He sighed.  "Miss Parkinson.  I thought you'd gone home."

A pause.  "I wanted to visit Draco one last time.  I brought something for his tomb."

She walked around him, her steps light.  She looked pale and tired, as if she were his son's grieving widow.  Perhaps she had the right.  She had had hopes, after all.

Yes, Lucius knew everything.  He watched her as she knelt in front of Draco's tomb and laid his Head Boy badge on the ground.  He knew she had hopes.  He would have felt sorry for her if it were the sort of thing he cared about.

He didn't care about anything, anymore.

_You live in a church_

_where__ you sleep with voodoo dolls_

_and__ you won't give up the search_

_for__ the ghosts in the halls_

_you__ wear sandals in the snow_

_and__ a smile that won't wash away_

_can__ you look out the window_

_without__ your shadow getting in the way_

"When I woke up today," she said softly, "it took me a while before... before I remembered."

Lucius' throat constricted.  Her words reminded him of himself, that morning.  Of waking up alone in his bed; of searching for Narcissa and finding her crying in the Hall of Portraits in front of the image of her son.

He remembered coming up to her, laying his hand gently on her shoulder.  Narcissa had shuddered and cringed away from him, but in the next moment had thrown herself into his arms, weeping, shattered, with the shards of her broken heart scattered around them.

"I miss him so much," she'd sobbed.  He had tried to kiss her tears away, but she'd wrenched herself away and run down the hall.  It was just as well.

_oh__ you're so beautiful_

_with__ an edge and a charm_

_but__ so careful_

_when__ I'm in your arms_

"I miss him so much," Lucius said, echoing his wife's words from that morning.

Pansy turned to him with a heartbroken wail.  He clutched at her frail form, trying to offer comfort that he could not afford to give.

To his utter surprise, she molded her body to his and started kissing his face frantically.

"Pansy, what are you doing," he protested as she clung tighter.

"Make me forget, Draco," she said, her slim fingers grabbing at his shirt.

"I'm not Draco," he said.  "Pansy, you forget yourself."

"Draco," she moaned.  "Please."  She reached up and twined her fingers in the hair at his nape.  She captured his lips in a bruising, desperate kiss.  He felt himself responding to her, but held himself stiffly in her arms until she broke away, crying.

_'Cause you're working_

_building__ a mystery_

_holding__ on and holding it in_

_yeah__ you're working_

_building__ a mystery_

_and__ choosing so carefully_

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm not Draco," he repeated.  "I understand that you miss him dreadfully, Pansy.  But I'm not about to let you do this in front of my son's grave."

She looked at him speculatively.  "Somewhere else, then?"

Something strange wrenched itself out of Lucius' throat.  It was, amazingly, a laugh.

"I'm flattered," he said, "but I don't think that would be advisable."

_You woke up screaming aloud_

_a__ prayer from your secret god_

_you__ feed off our fears_

_and__ hold back your tears_

_Give us a tantrum_

_and__ a know it all grin_

_just__ when we need one_

_when__ the evening's thin_

She sighed.  "Oh well, it was worth a try."  She grinned at him.  "Thank you."

He looked at her.  "It's getting late.  You should go."  He looked over his shoulder at Malfoy manor.  It was just starting to get dark.  He could see lights coming on in some of the windows.

_Oh you're a beautiful_

_a__ beautiful fucked up man_

_you're__ setting up your_

_razor__ wire shrine_

He heard Pansy leave.

Lucius stood in front of his son's tomb a few minutes longer.  Then he crouched down and cleared his throat.

"I suppose... I suppose there are a lot of things I should have told you," he said.  "I'm sorry, Draco."

Then he told him.  He told Draco everything.  Every single plan, every single thought, everything Draco had longed to know, everything he had withheld.  Everything that could have possibly saved him.

Then he turned to the tomb next to his son's.  "And I'm sorry too, Hermione.  More than you know."

He rose to his feet and started to walk back to the manor.

_'Cause you're working_

_building__ a mystery_

_holding__ on and holding it in_

_yeah__ you're working_

_building__ a mystery_

_and__ choosing so carefully_


End file.
